


Paper Sun

by onthewingsoficarus



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Canon Non-Binary Character, Chara and Frisk Share a Body, Dirty Brother Killer, Freeform?, Gen, Genocide, Genocide Route, Get Dunked On, Having A Bad Time, Headcanon Exploration, Megalovania intensifies, Multiple Deaths, No Mercy, Oops I have done a violence, Violence, What Have I Done, i guess?, i had an idea and i tried, mute!Frisk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-02
Updated: 2016-05-02
Packaged: 2018-06-05 21:21:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6724012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onthewingsoficarus/pseuds/onthewingsoficarus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>tick<br/>tick<br/>tick<br/>They will pay<br/>for their sins.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Paper Sun

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there! This is a one-shot loosely connected to the Sans/Reader fic I'm currently writing, entitled Halo-Heavy. It's not necessary at all to read that fic to understand this one though, nor is it necessary to read this one-shot to understand that fic. That said as well, there is no Reader involved in this story, so if ya hate that Sans/Reader stuff, have no fear, this story can be for you too lmfao. This is really just an exploration of a headcanon I have for Frisk. I won't go into too much detail so I don't spoil it. Regardless, I hope you enjoy reading! Please let me know if I made any horrific errors and I'll go fix them. Thank you for reading!

tick

 

tick

 

tick

 

The kid, no… Thing saunters forward, cocky little simper smeared across their face.

 

“it’s a beautiful day outside. birds are singing, flowers are blooming… on days like these, kids like you…” Force of habit, Sans supposes, calling the thing ‘kid’ as he had been for what probably amounted to years of existence. That’s not what this is anymore, though. He has to remember that.

 

“S h o u l d  b e  b u r n i n g  i n  h e l l .”

 

 _steel yourself._ With that last hint of warning, Sans pries the SOUL from its body, throttling it bruise-blue to the floor and sending the body with it, raising his hand and unleashing a maelstrom of bony projectiles directly at the pitiful thing. Or it would be pitiful, perhaps in another time. Pitiful because of its complete lack of humanity. Even the monsters who’d become wholly lost maintained more of that unsuitably-named trait.

 

The humanoid monster, in every sense of the word, writhes and screams as those bones leech HP. They don’t find their feet in time, blood painting the iridescent golden tile a bright crimson.

 

 _shut up._ Sans clenches his phalanges into a tight fist. As tight as humanly possible.

 

There it is again.

 

_i doubt they’ll even feel this…_

 

Sans’s magic responds brilliantly, the aqua luminescence from his left eye flickering off the golden stained glass windows as he mounts the fallen human’s body on spikes. The sad excuse for a SOUL splinters into a hundred pieces.

 

Sans knows better than to wish for it to stay that way.

 

The world goes dark at their whim, and then they’re back, exactly the same distance apart. Kid-thing strolling toward him. Slightly less arrogant grin on their face.

 

 _hilarious._ Sans shrugs, smiling widely, nearly psychotically. “heya. you look frustrated about something.” The angry twitch in the kid’s face is completely worth the verbal jab. It’s what he’s always been good at anyway. “guess i’m pretty good at my job, huh?”

 

_let’s try this again._

It works; the fool seems to have failed to learn about blue attacks. They would’ve likely had a little more practice, if they hadn’t, ya know, beheaded Papyrus. The thought brings out an extraneous cruelty; they suffer this time.

 

Sans patiently waits for it to reload, watching the dark crimson seep over the gorgeous golden floor. No matter, it’d be clean again in a minute.

 

And it is.

 

Once again, the entity steps forward, its smile twitching slightly against its face, like it’s struggling to keep it there. Sans’s grin only broadens as the tiniest amount of hope fills his heart; maybe, just maybe he can force the kid to completely reset.

 

“hmm. that expression. that’s the expression of someone who’s died twice in a row.” There’s simple satisfaction in watching the kid’s eyes turn into giant saucers since they’ve been shut this whole time. They almost immediately narrow, a growl itching at its throat.  _that’s right, you little shit. i know._ “suffice to say, you look really… unsatisfied.” It steps forward again, so obviously irritated. Its emotions, whatever happen to be left, will be its downfall. “all right. how ‘bout we make it a third?”

 

The kid screams in anger and launches itself headlong at Sans, directly through the first barrage of bones, forcing Sans to sidestep the knife. He gets a good look at the weapon as it passes an inch from his face, the blade dusty and cruelly jagged, curved like a sickly little smile. In spite of the carnage covering the knife, he can see his own sallow simper reflected back at him. Nausea prickles at the back of his throat as he levels his hand at the kid, and a Gaster Blaster comes at his SOUL’s call. The eldritch horror opens its canine-like maw wide, three more falling into formation about the first, beams of light spilling forth from their unhinged jaws. The human balks, only scathed by the first blast and dodging, but into harm’s way. The blasters devour the human whole in their divine radiance, obliterating all sign of the little shit-stain. There is no clean-up this time. Sans can’t even hear their screams over the sound of the discharge.

 

They’re entirely unprepared for Sans’s onslaught. Up until this point, the only real resistance they’d faced was Undyne, and even she couldn’t withstand a SOUL of such darkness and hatred for their kind. Sans is sure that in time, he too could fall, fail in his responsibility to reap the sins of those found wanted. However, a reset is his only chance for reunion with Papyrus, and with that knowledge, he cannot simply allow the kid to proceed.

 

Not after what he saw.

 

The culmination of an ending of all timelines in an infinite nothingness. The void beckons, its perpetually starving tendrils seeking still for some form of further sustenance.

 

“Awfully talkative for someone who didn’t say a damn thing when his brother… bit the dust.” The kid finally survives the first round and has the audacity to speak, to taint Papyrus’s memory with their voice. Sans’s eyes gutter into complete nothingness, darker than dark as another series of jagged bony attacks surge forth, sending golden tiles flying into the air. Yet again, they seem surprised, and can’t quite escape unscathed. Their HP bottoms out, forcing them to waste time on eating a Legendary Hero. Death in the form of Sans finds them the next wave.

 

Sweat begins to bead against Sans’s skull, the normally cool Judgment Hall now laden with thick, hot air. Sans adjusts his hands in his hoodie, gripping Papyrus’s scarf in between reloads, rubbing the fabric between his thumb and index finger. _i gotta give this back to him when i get home._ His stomach lurches as the thought slips by, and the kid’s there again on the other side of the hall.

 

A revolting sense of déjà vu crushes into Sans with every wave, repeating the same motions he knows he’s used in another timeline. Phantom pain lances across his chest as he skids out of the way of the kid’s knife yet again. This may not have been the first time he’s had to do this. He’s unsure, to be honest. All the resets have blurred into one carousel of eternal bullshit by this point.

 

“what? you think i’m just gonna stand there and take it?” Sans snaps at the thing, unloading yet another pattern for them to follow. Their foot catches on a smaller bone jutting from the floor, and they smash face-first into the awaiting pile of sharpened phalanges. The bones claw into the kid’s body, attempting to keep them pinned to the floor. Just as they begin to break free, Sans takes hold of their SOUL, shrouding the inflamed heart in blue and throttling them back to the floor.

 

“Isn’t that what you always do? Just sit around and take it?” An inhuman cackling rakes up from the kid’s throat, and they slash out wildly. The blade whistles as it wizzes by Sans’s face. Their expression splits in a shit-eating grin, Sans’s grip on their SOUL faltering. They instantly take advantage, stabbing in quick succession at Sans’s chest. He dodges almost effortlessly. Almost. Sidestepping and backing up, keeping his hand firmly wrapped around Papyrus’s scarf. Abruptly, Sans throws out his hand, a blue bone impaling their wrist, forcing them to freeze.

 

“you can’t understand how this feels.” The kid twitches before him, the knife shaking in their white-knuckled grip around the handle. Up close, Sans visualizes a strong dissonance within the SOUL, two warring entities. Well… more like one pummeling the other into absolute submission. The losing entity feels quite like one he’d felt before. Another place and time.

 

“Why would I want to? You’re the saddest sack of shit in the Underground. All this power and you did _nothing_ to stop me?” A high-pitched laugh peels from the thing’s mouth, and Sans can’t help but solidify the blue bone, transforming the mirth bubbling from them into screams of agony. Sans clenches his fist in his pocket, the intruding bone expanding, wrenching their radius and ulna apart at the wrist. “Y-YOU’RE PATHETIC!”

 

The knife slips from their grasp, fingers no longer responding to stimuli. They grasp at the bone with their other hand, attempting to pry themselves free, with no luck. Might as well put them down. As their face hovers over the sharp point of the bone, Sans snaps his phalanges, cobalt magic enveloping their SOUL. Then, he parallels his hand with the ground and pushes down. They shriek as the bone punctures soft flesh a second time, quieting as a vile snap sounds from their head, blood and brain matter splattering down the ivory surface and onto the golden tile.

 

tick

 

tick

 

tick

 

Their dusty, sticky sneakers across the floor.

 

tick

 

tick

 

tick

 

His bones spearing through the tile.

 

tick

 

tick

 

tick

 

this

 

will

 

never

 

end

 

will

 

it?

 

Heaving ragged breaths, Sans is a little too slow against one stab, the blade slicing through his hoodie. The air sings as the knife passes mere centimeters from the bottom of his ribcage. In a surge of panic, a single overloaded blaster completely annihilates the kid, leaving him panting desperately for air. Sans doubles over, hands on his knees, retching at the paroxysm eating at his own SOUL. The spike and consequential drop in LV over and over, a constant reminder of what he’s doing, the what-he’d-believed-to-be good nature violated with each kill. It’s gone soon after it begins, and he reels upright once more.

 

“Just give up, Sans. You know you can’t keep this up much longer.” The kid runs their thumb along the edge of the blade, drawing blood and coming forward to try again. Sans reminds himself of a rigged carnival game; they can try all they want, but they won’t win.

 

“you’re awful talkative for someone looking so blue.” Sans tosses them as hard as he can at the far wall of the hallway, their back connecting with a resounding crash that echoes through the entire hall. “maybe you should try breathing instead.” Manic glee rises in his chest, watching the kid gasp for air like a drowning fish.

 

“Papyrus tried talking me out of it too, you know?” Swaying on their feet, they lance Sans’s psychotic exhilaration deftly, rushing at him to physically do the same. They’ve become completely reckless, uncaring of the barrage of projectiles directed their way. They force themselves through in spite of the searing pain carved into their skin as the bones shoot by, driving themselves right into Sans’s face. Locked in death’s dance, the combatants shirk around each other, Sans unable to effectively attack with the human so close. At the slightest separation, a blaster obliterates one of the kid’s legs, and they fall to the ground with a pitiful cry of rage, still lashing out madly with the knife at Sans’s feet.

 

“walk it off, kiddo.” Sans bends down to watch them bleed out, smiling over them as their movements fade into dull convulsing. Then, they’re gone again.

 

“Alas, poor Papyrus!” From across the hall, the kid mimics Papyrus’s voice, drawing their index finger across their throat. “At least he still had his head though, right?! Oh, wait…” They cackle maniacally, sprinting the distance before Sans can start to speak. “The imbecile started to tell me about how he thought I could do better, and you know what I did? I stepped right on his face and crushed it in.” They snort a laugh, slicing rapidly as Sans darts behind one of the massive pillars within the Judgment Hall.

 

“shut up.” To escape with his life, Sans casts a blaster after the kid, allowing him time to move, murmuring under his breath.

 

“I think I’ll do the same to you.” Miraculously, they abscond from the attack without a scratch, red eyes glinting with engorged bloodlust as they descend on Sans with yet another flurry of stabs.

 

“kid, shut the hell up.” He pants between assaults, clinging to the fight in him by his fingertips. Bringing another blaster forward, he manages to force the kid to at least give him some space, though they eye him hungrily across the white-hot beam of light.

 

“You’ll get to see him again, then. I don’t know why you keep fighting, it’ll just be easier if you let—me—win!” Sans catches their wrist in his hand just before the blade connects with his sternum. The kid attempts to put all their weight behind the blade, and Sans reacts with blue magic, driving the kid’s SOUL the opposite way. Their determination keeps them in place, however, locked into a stalemate. “Time to go, Sans. Papyrus wants you to read him one last bedtime story.” Their mouth curves upward in a wicked smirk, the knife twitching ever-closer to Sans’s chest despite his efforts.

 

“s-stop talking! shut up!” Sans grunts, screwing his eyesockets shut and twisting the human’s wrist harshly, eliciting a sharp gasp as he bends the joint to a breaking point, the point of the knife now directed back at them. Their eyes widen in shock and fear at that moment, like he’d never seen before. The gravity of the situation seems to have finally reached the kid, just as Sans’s gravity and weight begin to overpower their efforts, somehow, someway. Their elbow gives, and by then it’s only a matter of time.

 

“No! Stop! NO! PLEASE, Sans! No—“ Sans doesn’t immediately see where the knife ends up, only feels the nasty give of human skin as it breaks to the blade. The kid coughs, and a spray of hot liquid hits Sans in the face. Finally, he decides it’s safe to look, shaky, still gripping the kid’s wrist tightly in hand.

 

The knife has found its hilt within the human’s throat, cerise blood pouring from the wound and dribbling from their gaping mouth. The crimson light in their eyes seems to have died, and they fall forward onto their knees, looking up at Sans miserably.

 

tick

 

tick

 

tick

 

Droplets of blood patter onto the floor beneath them.

 

Sans takes ahold of the kid’s arm with his free hand, driven by the compassion truly housed within his SOUL, guiding them to the ground as gently as he can, knowing Papyrus would do the same if he could. They gawk at him, lips moving, but nothing other than a low gurgling coming out. Their hand’s still around the handle of the knife, seeming to be struggling with it. Knowing he only has a moment or so until the kid’s HP bottoms out to nothing, Sans makes a last-ditch appeal to the faltering entity within the SOUL, the light in the darkness.

 

“somewhere in there. i can feel it. there’s a glimmer of a good person inside of you.” As if in protest, the rubicund look reappears in their eyes, flickering out weakly after a few seconds. “the memory of someone who once wanted to do the right thing.” Unbidden, recollections of another place and time begin to bubble within his mind, stacking hot-animals, keeping promises… “someone who, in another time, might have been…

 

a friend?”

 

Then, a name, itching just at the edge of his mind, on the tip of his tongue. Just out of reach.

 

“c’mon, buddy. do you remember me?”

 

Their chest heaves in a silent sob, tears mingling in with the excessive amount of blood on their face, running back into their disheveled hair. The red continues to pulse in and out of their irises, the dissonance in their SOUL only growing louder, a cacophony of frustration, rage, fear. Pain. Love.

 

“please, if you’re listening… let’s forget all of this, ok?” The darker entity within the body writhes angrily as the kid nods, only just capable, their eyes lidded with bloodloss.

 

“just let go of your weapon, and… well, my job will be a lot easier.” Miraculously, it works. The human lets go of the hilt of the blade, their hand falling limply at their side. Sans puts his hand in their place, drawing it out, allowing them a quick death. “if we’re really friends… you won’t come back.” He murmurs quietly, sitting back on his heels and watching the dust-motes float through the sunlight seeping through the stained glass windows.

 

 

 

 

The kid spins around just as the word “human” leaves his mouth, terror clearly visible within their darkened eyes. To show he means no harm, Sans extends his hand in greeting, and the kid takes it immediately, not hesitating one bit. A wry smile quirks the corners of their lips up as, of course, they activate the whoopee cushion he’d so cleverly placed against his palm. He’d thought it was clever, anyway.

 

“wait a sec… have you heard it before or something?” They shake their head, holding up both hands innocently by their sides. “you turned around before i said to… weird.” They chew on their bottom lip anxiously, as if waiting for a verdict. Sans simply shrugs, and they seem to relax. “…whatever. you’re a human, right?” That same smile flits across their face. “i’m sans. sans the skeleton.” Out of instinct, Sans surveys their equipped items for a threat, a stick in their right hand, which they hold against their body with their arm to free up their hands, which begin to move slowly. Sans watches carefully, trying to understand what the kid’s trying to tell him, his brows furrowing. _why don’t they just say it?_ Sans’s eyes find their defense equipped item—bandages, wrapped around their throat.

 

He blinks in shock, bloodstained memories pouring forth.

 

tick

 

tick

 

tick

 

_i did this._

 

Pressing the knife through their neck. Ending their life. This kid, right here.

 

Taking their voice.

 

He did that.

 

_“F_

_R_

_I_

_S_

_K.”_

 

Sans swallows the lump of guilt at the back of his throat, stuffing his hands in his pockets and forcing himself to make eye contact with them. Frisk gnaws on the inside of their cheek, standing perfectly still in spite of their building anxiety.

 

 _“I’m sorry… do you remember?”_ Finally, Frisk has to sign something else, hesitant, but with the knowledge that maybe, hopefully they can reload if they royally ruin this too. Sans shakes his head, sighing heavily.

 

“no, kiddo. i’m sorry. i didn’t mean—“ Frisk cuts him off, hands moving rapidly.

 

 _“Let’s forget about all of this, ok?”_ The faint itch of familiarity clamors at the back of Sans’s mind. He’s heard that before, somewhere.

 

“ok.” Sans shrugs lackadaisically. He’d like to forget, certainly. He’s not so sure that he can, however, guiding Frisk forward through the too-wide bars of the wooden gate, ever-watchful for that hint of red in their eyes.


End file.
